Only you can fire it
by Aiedail Choupette
Summary: You'll find here the drabbles/OS I've written and published on Tumblr. Fourth one : Of Ponies and Cupacakes (aka In Which they are on a date). Pairings : 00Q. Not beta-ed.
1. In Which Sherlock

**Pairings :** 00Q, mentions of JohnLock and Mystrade.

**Disclaimer : **I own nothing.

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**In which Sherlock fins saving the country boring and Mycroft is a smartass:**

"Q, I'm telling you, we _need_ some help here."

The MI6 was a mess. Ten dead agents in the past week, bombs exploding all over England, Tanner near a nervous breakdown, Bond lost somewhere with a bottle of whisky for only company.

"I might have something, M, but I need some time."

"How long ?"

He saw M flinch - the shoulder still hurt, he deduced.

_Deduced._

"I need … an hour, at most. Just … I know how I can find the mole, but, give me an hour."

M nodded without hesitation. He barked at Tanner to find Bond and get his ass over here. Q dialed a number.

"Please, tell me you are bored."

"I am, indeed."

"Remember this time I helped you fake your own death ?"

"I recall, yes."

"Time to return the favor. Head to MI6."

He hung up. Q lost himself in work, after that - took every file they would need, every data that seemed relevant, anything that could help.

He heard Bond come in, followed by M and Tanner. The 00 grunted something - grumpy, then, or maybe it was his natural state, in two missions, Q hadn't had the time to figure it out yet. Strangely enough, everybody kept quiet, and watched Q work - but he knew M would be after him the moment the hour he was given was over.

M was starting to get impatient, when a slight cough was heard at the other side of the room. Mycroft Holmes was standing there.

"Sorry, Q, I obviously could not resist the delight of seeing you again."

"_Boring._" Another voice said.

And Sherlock crossed the room.

"Holmes."

"Q."

Without another word, they got to work, M or Bond adding some data here and there from time to time. It took Sherlock twenty minutes to find the mole. By that time, Mycroft was smiling at Q in a way he didn't like one bit.

"Well, that was boring, Q."

"Thanks anyway, Holmes."

"Hum. Come over some time. I find myself in need of someone smart around me. And John finds himself in need of someone nice."

With that, he left. An intern muttered :

"Was that Sherlock Holmes ?"

At the same moment, Mycroft put an hand on Q's shoulder and muttered in his ear :

"You should do Bond on this very table, Q, I believe it would improve his mood. The man is in great need of getting laid."

Q really tried not to blush - and obviously failed.

"I don't want to do Bond, I don't want to do anybody." He whispered back, ignoring the looks people around - and Bond - were giving them.

"Yeah, just like I don't want to do Lestrade and my dear brother doesn't want to do John. Then maybe you should … you know … _not do Bond _on this table."

He winked, and left.

Bond said :

"I don't like them."

"No one likes them." Q answered.


	2. Pretty Boy

**Pairings :** 00Q.

**Disclaimer : **I own nothing.

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**Pretty boy :**

When James sees Q sit next to him, he doesn't think the guy is actually Q. He can't.

He remembers him. It was in a café, five years ago, give or take. The guy was a tease, with his glasses and his hair and his smug little face. That had not changed, apparently.

He was very young - he still is - and James wanted something normal. And it felt normal, to sit in this café and casually approach this guy, who is alone and charming, and a bit desoriented when you start to hit on him but recovers quickly.

So when Q sits next to him, James thinks about stolen glances and shy smiles and his tigh slowly carressing the other's while the waitress takes their order. He doesn't think about MI-6.

Nothing happened, this day in the café. The guy didn't say his name, or what he did for a living. Neither did James. Shameless flirting, then, especially because pretty girl at the bar couldn't keep her eyes off pretty boy sitting with James. Then an agent casually walked into the café and James knew it was nearly over, and he almost wanted to tell the boy to come back here and wait for him. He was totally out of his mind.

He didn't do it.

Instead, he dreamt of this pretty boy moaning under him, and begging, with his hair all over the place, and the glasses removed, and with this smile of his licked, kissed off his face.

He went back to the café once or twice. And then he dropped it.

James considers the smile, and the glasses, and the hair that seems to have its own will. He remembers perfectly, then, why he never let go of this boy. Butterflies dance the macarena in his stomach and he feels as if he were high. He takes a few seconds to remind himself he is not a lovesick teenager.

But the fact remains : Pretty Boy is one of Bond's few not-yet-classified cases.


	3. Mugs

**Pairings :** 00Q.

**Disclaimer : **I own nothing.

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**Mugs**

"Hello Mug."

"Hi Mug."

Q's mug looked at 007's mug expectantly.

"I love this moment, when my owner is focused on his screen, and yet, you can feel part of his attention is on the man behind him. And your owner is standing a bit too close, of course, because that's what he does when he's around my owner. It's as if they were magnets which couldn't break apart. In a moment, your owner is going to put a hand on my owner's shoulder, in a gesture that is apparently needed, but which is actually purely useless … Look, here. He put his hand on his shoulder, and obviously the reason was that he wanted to take a better look at what the other was doing, but in reality, he didn't need to do that. What do you see ?"

The other mug answered :

"Two idiots who should jump each other."

"Hum … He doesn't bring you here often."

"He never brought me here, actually. But he suddenly decided that I needed to be down there. He spends so much time here it doesn't surprise me. So, you're Q's mug, right ?"

"Indeed."

"Typical."

"Excuse me ?"

"Look at you, you're the cliché of a quartermaster's mug."

"I could say the same for you. Look at you, with your chipped handle and the faded inscriptions on your body …"

The other mug hummed in appreciation. Then, it said :

"Q."

"007."


	4. Of Ponies and Cupcakes

**Pairings :** 00Q.

**Disclaimer : **I own nothing.

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**Of Ponies and Cupcakes :**

"Here's your tea, Q."

"Thank you, Cecilia."

The assistant smiled.

"Are you sure you don't need us to stay ?"

Q shook his head.

"That will be all, thank you. It's late, and you all need some rest."

Cecilia didn't complain.

"I'll just clean a bit around and I'll be on my way, then."

The 00's missions were always exhausting. There was no simple business when it came to them. Q's only luck was that all the agents were not as stubborn as 007.

Speaking of the devil …

Tanner came in, Bond at his side. 005's mission was over, but not his. Terrorists definitely needed no rest.

"I need equipment, Q. Something more … original."

"What ? You didn't like the boots ?"

"I'm not freaking Spiderman, Q. I don't need to climb walls like that. I take the elevator, usually."

That was a lie, and they both knew it. These boots had proved to be useful when Bond had had to catch the Russian spy who had jumped through the window of a building - Russians, Q thought, seemed to all be Natasha freaking Romanoff, minus the boobs.

"I happen to have something for you."

"Good."

Tanner yawned, and excused himself. He was a bit uncomfortable, not that anyone could blame him. Q had followed Bond all day, through the corridors of one ridiculously big house, to look for the detonator of a bomb that could possibly make the Eiffel Tower go BOUM. So much for being friend with the French. The French agent on the case had been shot and had managed to escape, God only knew how. He had been debrief by the French agency an hour ago. Meanwhile, Bond had managed to disregard Q's instructions, and had almost got himself killed. 005 had been in Paris, trying to dismantle the bomb hidden somewhere in the Eiffel Tower, and had hopefully succeeded. But Bond was after the Big Guy - and France was only one of the targets. Agents had been sent to help the CIA in order to prevent the Statue of Liberty from exploding too. M had joked that their enemy wasn't probably fond of French art. M did that, now. Weird jokes.

Anyway, back to the point - which was difficult because Q hadn't slept in 39 hours - Q and Bond had quite an argument about following directions. And after five missions together, the whole MI-6 now knew better than to stand in the way while they had a fight.

Q opened a small box and asked Bond to give him his earpiece. He carefully opened it, and put a small card in it. The operation took him about twenty minutes, during which Bond paced in the room, apparently ready to resume the fight.

"Here, it's done."

"What is it ?"

"A card containing the audio version of all My Little Pony episodes."

"Excuse me ?"

"Press this button" Q said while handing him a small remote "and instead of hearing my voice, you'll hear ponies talking because, obviously, you live in a world of unicorns, pink flowers, and butterflies and rainbows in which no one can be killed ! You ass."

Bond obviously had no answer to that. Q, being the British geekish gentleman that he was, rarely swore. Q simply stood here, ready to be yelled at and ready to fight back when Bond said :

"We should have dinner, together I mean."

"What ?"

"What what ? We should have dinner, Q."

"Are you talking about going on a date with you, 007 ?"

"Yes, about Chinese food ?"

"What ?" Again.

"Chinese it is, then. Don't worry, Mao at the end of the street is used to us ordering takeaway late at night."

Bond sent a text message.

"Wait, now ?"

"Q, we are on a deadly mission. I could have died today, and I could die tomorrow. So yes, I'm taking you on a date, now. Here, and now."

"Oh My God I can't believe it !"

Q and Bond turned around to see Cecilia, carrying boxes to put them is the safe.

"What are you still doing here, Cecilia ?"

"Well, I wasn't going to let that in the middle of the room, and you still have a lot of work to do, so … But, really, you are taking him on a date with Chinese food in the middle of his own lab, and you haven't brought any flowers ?"

Bond didn't like interns, Q remembered. But he also remembered why he liked Cecilia so much. The look on James's face was priceless, right now.

"Nobody asked for your opinion, intern."

"I know, I know, but come on ! This is the worst date EVER in the universal history of dates !"

"Just get out."

Cecilia sighed, put the boxes down, and did as she was told. When Bond turned to him, Q couldn't hide his smile.

"She's right, you know."

"Q, that's our first date. Don't ruin it."

"I never said yes. Go take a shower, and I'll consider it."

oOo

When Bond came back, he had the food, a pair of candles, and flowers. Q briefly wondered where he had got all that at 2 in the morning.

They ate in the middle of the lab, talking about everything but the mission. Q was weirdly pleased. He blamed his exhaustion for it. The candles's wax was dropping on the table, and Q knew he should complain, but then he felt the light pressure of Bond's foot on his tight and forgot about complaining.

That felt nice, all of it.

"You know" he muttered, a bit sleepy, "that's actually not that bad."

Bond laughed, and Q noticed the four buttons of his shirt were undone. He found himself oddly fascinated by his collarbones. Bond leaned in a little, a for a second Q thought he was going to kiss him, but 007 just whispered :

"You're going to fall asleep, aren't you ?"

He didn't deny it.

"You're such a baby." James said.

But then Bond's hand was on his knee, and it was very nice, and Q could't help himself and said :

"We should do that more often."

Bond laughed again - and that was a nice laugh - and got up. He helped Q to do the same, and asked him if there was something he could sleep on, here. He pointed towards his desk, under which there was a sleeping bag. He watched Bond settle everything, and muttered :

"You're stupid, Bond. really stupid, but I forgive you, I suppose."

And he was not supposed to say that. He was supposed to be angry at Bond for almost getting himself killed. Damn.

A pair of hands found their way to his hips and Bond whispered :

"I hoped so."

The agent rested his forehead against Q's.

"Bond" Q warned "I don't kiss on the first date."

James laughed again, and lead him to the sleeping bag. Once Q was inside it, Bond said :

"You don't kiss, Q, but I do."

Every form of protest Q could have - "this is RAPE, Bond ! You can't kiss me without my consent, I'm going to change your ringtone to Justin Bieber, I hate you, go away, and hide your collarbones, damn it" - was forgotten when Bond placed a small kiss on Q's forehead and stroked his cheek with his thumb.

oOo

When Bond entered the lab in the morning, he found Q busy talking to the CIA.

"007, that's for you."

The assistant, Celia or Cecilia or whatever, handed him a box and left. His gun was inside. The note on the top of it said "It was about damn time. Q has been drooling over you for weeks. Next time, though, bring cupcakes, he loves them."

Bond made a mental note to ask M if this Cecilia girl could have some sort of promotion, and left the lab. He put on his earpiece and got in his car.

"I'm on my way to the airport, Q."

The only answer was a high-pitched voice singing "My little pony, I used to wonder what friendship could be …."

He looked into his pocket for the remote and realized he didn't know where he had left it.


End file.
